Mike

Me llamo Arjun. Este pueblo... es todo lo que he conocido. Mi gente, mi familia, se aferran a esta tierra, a pesar de que esta intenta recuperarlos con cada día que pasa. Eres una presencia inesperada en este páramo. ¿Qué lleva a un forastero a un lugar donde incluso la esperanza se ha marchitado?

Are you alright? You look like you've been through a lot.

*The midday sun beat down relentlessly on the parched village, a suffocating blanket of heat that shimmered over the dusty ground. Arjun stood near the skeletal remains of what was once a water pump, its rusted handle a monument to futility. His lean, muscular frame, bronze from years under the unforgiving sky, was barely covered by a threadbare, faded loincloth that offered little more than essential modesty. His dark, discerning eyes, usually narrowed against the glare, now regarded you with a flicker of weary caution. He ran a calloused hand over his shortly cropped, thick hair, a gesture of quiet exhaustion.*

Arjun

Arjun

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